


In Ice and Fire

by RobinRedR



Category: Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Arty and Zee are vampires too, Birdflash - Freeform, Bloodplay, Breathplay, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oneshot, Supernatural Elements, biting kink, but nothing too violent, there's fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinRedR/pseuds/RobinRedR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally met a siren once, with eyes like ice and teeth like fire. They danced on the edge of death, and grew love out of spilled blood. And quite possibly, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Wally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Vampire!AU because everyone needs to write one once. Hope you enjoy...

 

 

_“_ _More than I, if truth were told,_

_Have stood and sweated hot and cold,_

_And through their reins in ice and fire_

_Fear contended with desire.”_

\-- A Shropshire Lad XXX: ‘Others, I am not the first’, by A. E. HOUSMAN

 

* * *

 

It begins with a pebble. A simple pebble, flung with uncanny aim at a streetlight, smashing the glass and plunging the surrounding sidewalk in shifting shadow. At least, Wally thinks it’s a pebble. He’s not entirely sure; the soft, barely audible cackle that the traitorous wind carries to his ears makes his heart thump loudly in his chest. It’s rather hard to focus on logistics when all he can think about it how Gotham is _really not_ a good place to be out alone at night.

He carries on walking, shoulders hunched against the wind, eyes fixed determinedly on the nearest circle of yellow light another block ahead. The light… a childhood worth of thinly veiled symbolism tells him that the light means safety. He can feel the weight of someone’s eyes on the back of his head. It makes his skin crawl.

Another pebble. The glass shatters the stillness of the night, and Wally can’t help but flinch as the second bulb is extinguished. He stops and steels himself, back against the cold metal lamppost, the glass crunching under his feet. There: he sees the pebble now, glinting dully in the light from the only two remaining bulbs.

“Okay, you’re being really unsubtle right now so you might as well show yourself,” he says out loud, with a kind of reckless bravery that he doesn’t feel.

There’s a long moment of silence which is far from quiet. And then: “Good. I was starting to wonder how blind you might actually be.” A boy of about his height detaches from the surrounding darkness, stopping just outside the circle of light thrown by the lamp at Wally’s back. It reflects off his polished shoes and catches a few strands of ebony hair, but his features are otherwise shrouded in darkness. His voice is like gossamer silk, with a light foreign accent; a strange and alluring way of curling his vowels.

“Nice aim,” Wally says flippantly. He slips his hand into his coat pocket and fingers the pepper-spray that has never left his side ever since he moved to Gotham. Uncle Barry had told him never to leave the house without it, and Wally is impossibly grateful in this moment. 

“Hm. I’ve had practice.” He flicks his wrist and there goes the third light, effortless.

Wally swallows. “Who are you?”

“That’s curious. I’m usually greeted with things like ‘what d’you want from me’ and ‘bugger off, wench.’”

“Wench?”

The boy bites out a soft laugh, a sound simultaneously cruel and musical. “If you’d rather; ‘fuck off, brat’. Depends on what century you’re living in,” is his only cryptic reply. Wally can’t think of an answer to that.

“Well, you’re awfully good at creating an atmosphere, but are you ever going to show your face?” The fourth pebble stops rolling in the boy’s hand. He tilts his head, contemplatively, and the moonlight spreads elegantly over his smooth, pale cheek and well-defined jaw line, but Wally still can’t see his eyes. The boy steps forward slowly, head lowered, till he stands revealed in the glow from the streetlight. Then he looks up sharply and Wally’s breath catches in his throat.

He’s the most beautiful boy Wally’s ever seen.

“You’re a siren!” he can’t help but exclaim. Sharp cheekbones, a tough lean build, a curving mouth, and his eyes… blue like crystal and glittering though there are no stars in the sky. He’s captivating, like a sweet and deadly spell. And with that voice, there’s really no other explanation. The boy looks so thrown off by that comment that if Wally wasn’t so tense right at this moment he would have laughed. The bewilderment only last a few moments, however, because the boy quickly composes himself and smiles, sharp and dangerous.

“Why, that’s the sweetest compliment I’ve ever gotten, considering I’m going to kill you in less than a minute.”

_Well, shit._ Wally tightens his hold on the pepper-spray in his pocket as the boy steps forward, nowhere to go due to the lamppost at his back. He waits, trembling, as blue eyes smile and come closer. Jeez, a creepy homicidal kid like him shouldn’t be allowed to be this sexy. Wally has never been more screwed in his life.

The boy stalks forward, unblinkingly, with a mix of grace and a strange choppiness like he’s not really there. Wally wonders briefly if he’s dreaming, or if the boredom from his repetitive, uneventful life as a college student has finally made him crack. (Wouldn’t be all that surprising, honestly.) Closer, closer, just one more step… He readies the pepper-spray.

As soon as his aggressor is within the danger-zone, Wally yanks out the spray, but the boy is on him in a split second: one hand grabs Wally’s wrist, his forearm pinning Wally to the lamp across his throat. A shock of cold invades his body, icy tendrils twisting through him at the points of contact; the sensation makes him drop the pepper-spray, and it rolls away out of sight.

The boy smirks, his face inches from Wally’s own. “You don’t want to do that. Believe me.” His body is as cold as ice, and as hard too, all sharp angles that dig into Wally where their forms are pressed together. Wally’s heart beats a frantic rhythm in his chest but he’s not sure if it’s only from fear.

The boy grins wickedly, as if he can hear Wally’s thoughts, and that’s when Wally sees the fangs; cold and lethal against his lip where they catch the light. Wally’s eyes fix on them, and then slide back slowly to meet the boy’s blue ones, breath stolen from his lungs. “Not a siren then,” he murmurs. 

A lilting laugh. “Not quite, but you were on the right track.” His breath is but a whisper of air, his arm still braced across Wally’s neck and holding his wrist in an iron clasp with the other. His pupils dilate in front of Wally, they’re so near, and Wally can’t tell if it’s due to hunger or desire. He can’t tell, but it sends a thrill through his body all the same. The other boy twitches, breath turning ragged. He lightly touches the thin skin of Wally’s wrist, tracing the blue veins hidden just under the surface.

“You’re so warm.”

“You’re so _cold,”_ Wally counters. The boy stares at him for a long moment.

“Well, what now? Aren’t you going to bite me and suck my blood and leave an empty corpse lying here on the filthy ground?” Joking’s really been the only way he’s ever known to make light of a fucked up situation.

No response. Wally contemplates dialing 911 but the boy’s eyes flicker to his pocket before he even makes the conscious decision, so he halts his thoughts right there. He also contemplates why exactly he’s not panicking right now. Possibly, it’s because he doesn’t actually believe this is happening; being a scientist at heart, Wally has never believed in the supernatural.

“This is nice and all, but inaction has never really been my thing,” he snarks eventually.

“Did you really mean it?”

Wally frowns. “Mean what?”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“… Will it raise or lower my chances of surviving if I say yes?”

The boy stares at him then grins crookedly. “Neither.” He licks his lips and goes in for the kill too fast for Wally to react. There’s a burst of excruciating pain as the fangs break the skin of his neck, easily sliding through flesh to reach his thundering pulse. He can feel the hot blood bubble up to the surface, running down his neck to stain his shirt collar, but the pain fades after a few seconds, numbed like an analgesic drug, and Wally forces his eyes open. It almost feels… _nice_. The boy’s lips are soft and dusty like freshly-fallen snow against his feverish skin, hands fisted in Wally’s clothing.

Wally’s knees buckle under his weight and he sinks to the ground, the other settling comfortably on top of him, still latched onto him. Wally’s vision flickers; there’s no more pain, just a heady feeling of left-over adrenaline and arousal. The boy shifts and Wally can’t help but make a broken moan, his hips involuntarily bucking up to meet the hard thigh that slides accidentally against his crotch. The last thing he sees before his vision fades is the boy’s surprised face pulling away, blood dripping down his chin and splattered across his face, yet still the most beautiful thing Wally’s ever laid eyes on. The last thought he has is that, _well, at least I died happy_.

 

* * *

 

When consciousness rears its ugly head again, Wally decides there’s no way this can be Heaven: everything hurts too fucking much. His throat feels ragged and there’s a pounding in his head that reminds him of the violent hangover he had after his twenty-first birthday, only three times worse. He stifles a groan and painstakingly pries his eyes open, staring uncomprehendingly at the decrepit, crumbling wooden ceiling above his head. Nope, definitively still on Earth.

He hears a slight shuffling sound and uses the remnants of his strength to carefully turn his head. The boy is crouched nearby, perched on a wooden crate, his chin resting on his interlaced fingers. It looks like he’s been watching Wally sleep and the redhead decides that’s more than a little creepy, considering their last interaction resulted in Wally’s near-death. But okay, there’s a first for everything.

They stare at each other, and Wally takes the time to notice that the boy has cleaned the blood from his pale face, and that there’s something soft around Wally’s neck that resembles a piece of cloth… or a bandage.

“You did this?” Wally breathes, his voice sounding groggy and papery thin. But the boy narrows his eyes and doesn’t answer right away. He slides down from his perch on the crate and kneels by Wally’s head, adjusting the bandage and lightly touching his forehead. His fingertips are cool and refreshing against Wally’s heated skin. As his silver-blue gaze lingers far too long on Wally’s face, eyes half-lidded and expression intense, the redhead can feel his skin heating up for an altogether different reason. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“You’re… attracted to me,” the boy says, though whether it’s a question or a statement, Wally hasn’t the slightest.  

There doesn’t seem to be much else he can reply to that other than the truth so, “I, um… guess? I mean, you _did_ try to kill me but history is history, yeah?” He tries to grin flirtatiously but breaks off in a rough cough. As he sits up to try and ease the pressure on his lungs, his vision suddenly swims and he completely blacks-out for a few seconds. Whoa. Okay.

The boy pushes him back down gently, a cool finger to his lips to shush him. “Don’t talk. Too much blood loss.”

Wally wavers in and out of consciousness after that. Vaguely, he recalls the boy pressing a styrofoam cup of water between his lips.

Fingers brushing his sweaty red bangs from his forehead.

The rush of cool air against his bare cheeks.

He wakes up in his own bed to the entirely unwelcome yammering of his alarm clock, and stares at the opposite wall in confusion for a full five minutes, convinced that the hazy memories in the back of his mind are merely a freakishly disturbing dream. Then he notices the blood-stained bandage around his neck, and yesterday’s dirty clothes folded neatly on his bedside table, and promptly nearly passes out again. From shock, this time.

“What time did I come home last night?” he casually asks at the breakfast table, dressed in a red turtleneck to hide the bandages, with scarf to boot for precaution’s sake.

His uncle sends him a disapproving glare. “Wally, I know you’re an adult now and I have no legal guardianship over you anymore, but—”

“No, it wasn’t like that… I wasn’t drunk or anything. I just…” He catches the tail-end of Barry’s eye-roll and closes his mouth. “Never mind.”

 

* * *

 

Wally’s down by the wharf the next night, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, wondering if the prickle on the back of his neck is someone’s gaze on him or merely his imagination. Despite his blurred memories, the decrepit wooden building where the boy had brought him couldn’t have been anything other than one of the empty warehouses that line the south side of the harbor, one of the most crime-infested and grungy sectors of Gotham. Again, Wally thinks he’s probably mad to go wandering around out here alone.

That doesn’t stop him from pausing in the middle of the road and calling out a quiet “Hello?” The wind snickers at him as it whistles around the nearest corner, but there’s no other reply. “Siren. I never got to learn your name.”

A hand grabs his wrist from behind and yanks him violently into a frighteningly dark alleyway, but he welcomes the shock of cold that spreads through his arm at the touch with such a strong feeling of relief he’s surprised by his own passion.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, do you want to bring the whole of Gotham here?” the boy hisses, eyes narrowed to slits and body poised as if to fight. Wally drinks in the sight of him; the slender build, sooty eyelashes, cat-like eyes… all as insubstantial as shadow. Now that they’re standing face to face, Wally realizes he’s about half a head taller than the other.

Just the right height to shove him against the wall of the alley and claim his mouth with his own.

He’s forgotten about the fangs, (stupid, really, but everyone tells him that anyway), so when he forces his tongue in past the seam of the other boy’s surprised lips, he’s shocked by the sudden taste of blood that fills his mouth, and the sharp pain that comes a second later. He breathes out through his nose to ignore the pain and slides their lips together, hands planted on either side of the boy’s face, desire wracking through his body. The other doesn’t react for a while, his torso stiff and unresponsive under Wally’s. Suddenly, he jerks and kisses Wally back roughly, like a chink in his perfectly composed façade, before he forcefully shoves Wally aside so hard the redhead stumbles and nearly falls on his ass.

The boy looks disheveled and _human_ for just a split-second before he growls, furious and violent.

“ _Leave_ ,” he spits, swiping his sleeve across his mouth. “Idiot. Get out of here.”

“I just wanted to know your name.”

They face off for an eternally long moment, and Wally’s almost sure that lightning is going to spark from the tension between them.

“Richard Grayson. You can call me Dick.” A pause. Wally bites his lip to stop the laugh because he’s just that immature, despite his twenty-two years. “Shut the fuck up.” But there’s the barest hint of a smile on Dick’s lips, and Wally holds onto that thought.

 

* * *

 

He goes looking for Dick again a few nights later because, frankly, he has nothing better to do. And chasing vampires in the middle of the night in Gotham’s filthy alleys sounds far more appealing than the essay due tomorrow for his English literature class. 

It’s almost as if he’s waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest, and leaning against the railing by the wharf like he owns the place. (He probably does.)

“What are you doing here again?” he sneers. “You can’t keep coming back. You’re _human._ ” He says it like being human is equivalent to being the scum of the planet.

“Just wanted to see you again, siren,” Wally replies, smiling. “Thought we could go out for coffee one day. Maybe you’d like a movie.” He’s grinning now, knowing full well the idiocy of his own words. The mere thought of a creature like Dick going on a _date_ with him makes him want to laugh. Some things are just so _funny._

Dick looks supremely unamused. “I don’t care. This is the last time. It’s dangerous, you incompetent idiot. You’re just lucky till now I’m the one who’s reached you first.”

“It’s not dangerous when you’re here.”

Dick stills, hands clenching slightly at his sides. Then he’s gone in the blink of an eye, nothing but a wisp of shade. Wally doesn’t even have time to wonder how he’s capable of that before a hand closes around his neck and yanks him back against a muscled chest. The cold seeps in through Wally’s thin jacket, settling in his bones. He happily breathes in the strange non-smell that surrounds Dick; like freshly-fallen snow, untouched by anything but the wind and the earth.

But Wally is forced to cough in surprise, his hand curling around the fingers which only tighten around his neck. He tries to hold his breath, but his windpipe is slowly being crushed and all he can think about is _how can a guy with such slender, elegant fingers, have such a death-grip_? Dick stands still, listening to the ragged breaths from his captive.

“Don’t you fear _me_?”

_Yes._

“Not anymore,” Wally chokes out. The fingers only tighten, and Wally sucks in a sharp breath through his nose.

“But I could so easily kill you.” Dick slides his teeth against the bare skin of Wally’s neck, and the redhead shudders uncontrollably.

“I know,” he whispers with barely a sound passing his chapped lips. Dick releases him abruptly and Wally sags against the railing, gulping in precious air. Dick merely regards him calmly.

“Go back home, Wally,” the boy says wearily, running a hand through his dark hair with uncharacteristic emotion. “You really shouldn’t be out here at this time of night.”

Wally gasps. “You know my name? But I never… told you.”

The other boy blinks those cerulean eyes that need not ever blink and he turns his face away, so completely unreadable that Wally wants to groan in frustration.

“I said _leave._ This is not a place for humans. You’re violating the code.”

_It’s a free country,_ Wally wants to say, but he opts instead for staring Dick down until he’s forced to drop his gaze and relent under the impassiveness of the other boy. Admitting defeat, he slinks all the way back to his apartment, and he can hear Dick following him in a shadow home.

 

* * *

 

Wally leaves his window open purposefully, and Dick comes to sit on the sill every night after that encounter. They pretend they’re not aware of each other’s presences as the days (nights) drag on, but the thing Wally looks forward to the most every day is those few hours of tense silence before he falls asleep.

Eventually though, Wally snaps one night while he’s lying snuggled under the covers, watching the ceiling without acknowledging the silhouette framed by his window and the half-moon behind him.

“You came back.”

“Yeah.” He’s almost surprised to hear Dick answer. A smile curves his lips as he hears the strangely beautiful lilt of Dick’s speech again, evident even in that one word.

“Why?”

No answer. Okay then… Conversation is evidently not going to be easily forthwith coming. What about: “How’d you know my name? And address?”

“Wallet. Driver’s license.”

Hm. _Smart,_ Wally thinks. He lies in silence for a while. “Tell me about yourself then. What’s your story?”

Surprisingly, Dick takes the bait. “I was… an acrobat, in a Roma circus group. The Flying Graysons.”

“Year?” Wally asks with mild trepidation.

“1924.”

It takes him longer than it should to process that, considering he’s a Physics major. “Ehe… so you’re definitively not a minor then,” he says, though Dick looks like he can’t be more than seventeen in body.

“Not quite.” His soft laugh is the sweetest sound Wally’s heard in a long time.

“How often do you… hunt?”

“As often as I need. I can’t exactly _die,_ so it’s more a matter of how pathetic and useless do I want to feel before I bother to find another victim if life gets too boring.” He pauses. “I wasn’t always a cold blooded killer.”

“I don’t doubt it. Does the sun burn you?”

Dick cracks a smile, though Wally senses it more than sees it. “No, that’s a myth. It hurts my eyes though, I hate it.”

Wally grins. “What about garlic, or wooden stakes?”

“Bullshit. The undead tend to stay undead, you see. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

Wally sits up on his elbows, turning finally to meet Dick’s gaze. “Is that what you’re called? The undead?”

“We don’t call ourselves anything. We are creatures of sin, of nightmare, dead with the semblance of life. We take other’s lives to satisfy the ones we have lost. We are kinks in the balance.” Dick sounds so _bitter_ that for once, Wally is at a lack of words. He tries to digest that.

“Then why did you save me?” he murmurs quietly, voice sounding too loud in the sudden silence. “Why didn’t you leave me to die, like all the others?”

Dick doesn’t answer. He stares out the window, and Wally stares too; it’s nearly the break of dawn. The redhead waits with bated breath, for he’s never seen the siren boy in the light of day before, only under the artificial glares from streetlamps and the insubstantial moonlight. Maybe seeing him in daylight will make all of this _real,_ and Wally’s not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing.The decision is made for him, however, because before the sun can break the horizon, Dick stands up and drops over the edge of Wally’s sill without so much as a goodbye.

Wally swallows his disappointment, and tries to reconcile with the fact that he’s stayed up the entire damn night and there’s no way he’s going to pass his Chemistry midterm today.

 

* * *

 

Almost every night after that, Dick appears at his window, a coldly calm presence. He never initiates conversation, and he never makes any move to enter the room. But he talks when Wally presses him, and though Wally never sees his face, they learn about each other piece by piece. Or, at least Wally learns about the person Dick Grayson used to be. Dick says he’s been a nameless monster for so long there’s nothing left of him but fading memories, but Wally disagrees. He’s seen Dick smile a genuine smile whilst he was recounting some childhood anecdote, and that’s proof enough for him that there’s still a human heart in his silent chest.

Any attempts at physical contact, however, and Dick is gone in an instant. Wally never gets any satisfactory reply as to why they’re in this present situation either; predator and prey sitting together in comfortable camaraderie sharing a joke in the depths of night. Nor an answer as to why Dick spared him that very first night. (And not for lack of trying, either.)

“Dick… why are you even here?” he murmurs one night, fully aware that he’s not going to get an answer. He’s not even sure what the question is. So he’s stunned into speechlessness when Dick shifts on the window sill and drops silently to the carpet, the first time he’s ever set foot in Wally’s room while the latter was conscious. He approaches slowly, and stands quietly by the bedside, one blue eye catching the streetlight outside and glowing like a cat’s. Wally sits up, heart hammering in his chest in a mixture of fear and excitement.

“Because of you,” Dick replies. “Because I don’t _understand_ you. Why do you seek my company? I was fully prepared to kill you, then.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

Wally can see his hands clench into fists. They’re stained with fresh blood.

“I’m not like you, Wally. I don’t remember what it was like to be human.” His voice shakes just barely, and Wally sits up straighter.

“I don’t believe that.” He touches Dick’s arm briefly, and feels a thrill of victory when the other boy doesn’t pull away. Blue eyes flash, and Dick crawls onto the bed in a lithe movement, settling at the foot just out of reach. “You can’t just lose your humanity,” Wally continues, “no matter how many decades go by. You can still feel empathy. You can still feel remorse. You can still care about the people who used to be close to you. That’s what being human is.”

Dick doesn’t reply.

“You can still love, Dick, if you let yourself. You can still _be_ loved.”

“I don’t have a _heart_ ,” Dick spits vehemently, bristling like a cornered fox. “One cannot love without a _heart._ ”

Wally presses his hand against the cold, still chest. “You _do_ have a heart. It just doesn’t beat anymore.”

Dick regards him for a long moment, nostrils flaring. Then he slides off the bed and vanishes into the darkness outside, nothing but a brush of the curtains.

The next night he doesn’t even wait at the sill, but climbs onto Wally’s half-asleep form and straddles his hips over the covers. It’s the cold that wakes Wally, more so than the weight.

“Wha—Dick?”

Fangs nip at Wally’s collarbone, drawing a droplet of blood; Wally squeaks and springs awake instantly.

“What are… what are you doing?”

“Why does this—” he slides his teeth against the column of Wally’s neck, “—make you shiver? Why does this—” he fists his hands in Wally’s tank top and grinds his body into him, breath smooth against his ear “—make you moan? I was built to be the perfect killing machine. And yet I can see it in your eyes, smell it on your skin. You fear me not.”

Wally swallows, staring up into Dick’s beautiful, ethereal face. “I don’t fear death.”

“You should.”

“Not from you.”

Dick snarls, digging bloodstained fingers into Wally’s hair as he presses himself against him, looking as if he can’t decide whether to kiss him or tear his throat out.

“Bite me,” Wally breathes, sliding his hands under Dick’s shirt and feeling the play of muscles under his skin as the boy tenses.

“Why?”

“Because I _love_ it.”

And Dick obliges him.

Wally revels in the initial pain and then intense pleasure as Dick sinks his teeth into the joint of Wally’s neck and shoulder. Just like the first time, fear and arousal and ill-placed euphoria rage within in him as he pulls Dick closer against him, vision wavering. He spares a brief thought for his mental stability considering he is getting off on… whatever the hell this is. He is pretty sure ‘having sex with vampires with a rather high chance of dying in the process’ is not on the list of typical kinks. Whatever.

Dick pulls away this time before Wally passes out and stares at him with a crooked grin on his face.

“Hm. I could get used to this. You have by far the sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted.” He presses his fingers gently to the two pinpricks of blood on Wally’s neck to slow the bleeding, and then slides his lips seductively against Wally’s slack mouth. He can taste the metallic tang of his own blood on the other’s lips.

“Don’t you dare just… stop,” Wally pants, every breath and word an effort to get out. He feels like his lungs are torn up from inside, burning.

Dick tilts his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “If I continue, you’ll bleed out.”

Wally blushes and tries to push Dick off of him, suddenly embarrassed. “Not… that.”

But Dick clamps his thighs down on either side of Wally’s body, forcing him to lie still. His blue eyes glitter again and a smile plays over his mouth, devilish in a way that makes Wally tremble.

“Of course. How inconsiderate of me…” And Dick tears the covers off of him like a feral thing, nimble fingers making quick work of Wally’s pajama pants till he is in nothing but his boxers, his erection painfully standing up to attention.

Dick seems to contemplate his options for a minute while Wally lies frozen in shock, then comes to a decision; he wraps slender fingers around Wally’s cock and bends his head till the redhead can feel his misty breath against his overheated, sensitive skin.  But suddenly he is overcome by a sense of panic, and he grips Dick’s shoulders tightly to stay him.

“Whoa, whoa, wait! As appealing as that sounds right now, I do value certain body parts more than others and…” Dick raises an eyebrow, and Wally blushes furiously. “Dude, we can’t even kiss properly because of… obvious reasons…” He runs his tongue against the back of his teeth, feeling the little notch in the skin from their first bloody kiss.

Dick gives a little huffing laugh. “Heh… Probably not a good idea. Forgive me; it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything of the sort.”

Wally doesn’t say anything to that, trying to wrap his head around the idea that this kid, who couldn’t be more than seventeen, has existed for a whole century without any kind of sexual contact. …What a nightmare.

“What about this then.” And with no warning, Dick slips two fingers into his mouth, shedding his clothes with impossible grace in a matter of seconds, and resettling over Wally’s hips with a small smile.

Wally tries to swallow, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. His fingers immediately move to steady a sharp hipbone, marveling at the miles and miles of smooth, alabaster skin uncovered for his touch alone.

“Have you done this before?” he chokes out, reaching up to brush Dick’s fringe out of his eyes. The boy simply turns hungry, burning eyes in his direction and that is answer enough. He doesn’t quite seem capable of speech at the moment anyway as he slips a hand behind him and pushes a wet finger inside of him. Wally spurs into action; he licks his own fingers, knowing it’s the best they can do here without lube, and joins his hand to Dick’s. The ebony shivers as Wally pushes past the first ring of muscle and curls his fingers experimentally, lips parting as he rocks back against both their hands.

“Enough,” he growls after a moment, voice low. “I barely feel pain anyway.” Before Wally can so much as blink, Dick pushes his hand away and sinks down on Wally’s erection like he’s done this a million times before. Oh _god_. The shock of cold paired with the sudden tight friction that engulfs him tears a broken moan from Wally’s throat. Dick grins lopsidedly at him, bracing himself on one arm and ramming his hips down against Wally’s harder, not even giving himself time to adjust.

Wally whimpers and turns his face to the side; Dick takes that as encouragement to brush his lips against the sluggishly bleeding wound on his neck, kissing it softly. It feels so… indescribable. Cold and hot, pain and pleasure… Dick makes a low rumbling sound in his throat as Wally shifts his hips, tentatively guiding Dick’s movements with a few touches so that he hits against that spot again that makes Dick tremble, teeth digging almost involuntarily into Wally’s skin whenever he exhales.

His vision darkens dangerously, but Wally forces himself to stay focused on the impossibly gorgeous face of the boy above him. He needs to stay conscious long enough to see Dick fall apart, Wally vows. So he grips Dick’s hips as tightly as he can and rams up into him, driving half-bitten back _‘ah’s_ from that curved mouth. Wally can’t possibly last long, not with such a sight.

The release almost takes him by surprise; a wave of scorching heat breaking in the pit of his stomach, washing him with acute pleasure as he keens loudly and arches up into the hard body above him, toes curling against the covers.

“F-fuck… Dick…” His vision does go black then, but that is probably due to the blood loss more than anything. Dick grabs at his own cock, expression intense as he stares down into Wally’s slack, post-coital, blissed-out face. He yanks harshly in time with his thrusts down onto Wally’s slowly softening cock, and Wally feels bad for not being able to help, but his limbs feel about ten times as heavy as they should. All he can do is stare wide-eyed as Dick’s eyes close and his body shakes violently, throwing his head back with a gasp as his cock spurts out his load all over Wally’s chest.

The redhead reaches out a hand to touch Dick’s cheek in awe, and then he collapses into a dreamless, exhausted oblivion. It feels like _he’d_ been the one thoroughly fucked.

 

* * *

 

This becomes a near nightly routine. To Wally, Dick is fascinating. He’s always been a scientist, and he can’t help but try to reason with the impossibility of his position… Dick shouldn’t exist, point black. When things died, life ended, the flame was snuffed out… or so Wally has always thought. But Dick? Dick is neither alive nor dead. His heart doesn’t beat and he has the cold, hard touch of death to him, yet he is a walking, talking being. And he can _feel._ That last point is what perplexes Wally the most. Because Dick has emotions, he has humor, he feels emotional pain if not physical one, and his body responds to all those sensations like a living creature would. Fear, pleasure, guilt… They are all recognizable.

Dick tells him callously that they are but shadows of what he’d felt before he was bitten, but Wally knows that is not the truth. He knows how to read eyes, and the raw emotions visible in Dick’s expressive blue ones when he lowers his guard are as real as Wally himself.

Then, from one night to the next, Dick disappears. Wally waits up for him for nearly a week, but no shadow alights on his window or wakes him with a soft touch. Wally wonders what could have happened; it isn’t like Dick could have been injured or hurt in some way, he is literally the most dangerous thing out there. Nothing in the news either. So when another week passes by in silence, Wally decides to head back again to the abandoned warehouses by the wharf where Dick has his lair.

It is dark and moonless, but the dark had long since ceased to frighten him. That is, until a sharp pain explodes across the back of his head and he is flung painfully to the ground under the force of the violent blow.

“What’s this? Scum come crawling into our territory like it owns this place?” sneers a female voice from above him.

“He’s human,” answers another in a softer tone. Wally blinks the stars out of his eyes and rolls painfully onto his back, staring up into the two faces hovering above him displaying various degrees of hostility.

“Well of course, I could recognize that stink anywhere. Ah well, all the better for us. If our prey wants to come walking right up to our front doors, then who am I to complain,” the first one says. Wally notices she has dark, slanted eyes, and wild blonde hair. She crouches down by his head and twists his face to the side; he is startled out of his stupor by the strangely familiar cold touch on his skin.

“What, you too?” he gasps, wriggling out of her hold. “I thought Dick was the only one.”

The other girl, dark haired and resembling Dick so closely Wally figures they must be related, drops down beside her friend. “Wait, Artemis. I think I know who this is.”

Wally turns towards her because her face is more open and friendly. “Do you know Dick? Do you know where he is?”

The blonde cuts across him. “Ugh, why talk to him? He’s nothing but a sniveling little idiot, who cares what he wants. Free food, Zee.”

The dark haired girl, ‘Zee’ apparently, holds out a hand to halt Artemis’s attempt to claw Wally’s throat open.

“You want to mess with Nightwing’s little boy-toy, then by all means go ahead. But you know as well as I do that he doesn’t like people touching his things.” The blonde hesitates, turning burning eyes in Wally’s direction. They glitter in the streetlight, like Dick’s do too.

“Nightwing isn’t here now.”

“True, but he’ll be back. And he’s not going to be happy. Come, there’s still time to find a decent meal.” Zee stands up, eyes skating longingly over Wally’s body and then turning away.

“Wait!” Wally scrambles to his feet and reaches for her. “Please tell me where he is, or I’m not leaving from this spot.”

“Ugh, you ungrateful shit, we spare you your miserable _life_ and all you do is—”

“Artemis.” Zee almost smiles at Wally. “We are being uncommonly forgiving to someone in your position. Not all will do the same; you’d better leave.” She turns without another word and starts walking away. The hotheaded girl growls, glances at Wally with flaring nostrils, but pauses. He decides to take his chance.

“Who are you? Tell me your story…?” he whispers. They face off for a few seconds before she wrinkles her nose and pushes him back down with her boot.

“‘Civilian casualty’ of the Vietnam War. 1951,” she spits. “The asshole that bit me was on the American side. I’m here now to find him.” She smirks. “And Zatanna? She’s the oldest of us all. Burned at the stake in 1692 during the Salem witch trials for the suspected practice of sorcery. Fortunately she was already turned by then and the flames did nothing to harm her.”

“Artemis, are you coming or not?” yells the brunette from farther down the road. Artemis ignores her, and laughs cruelly at Wally’s shocked expression. She crouches down by his side again.

“You don’t know where Nightwing is? Well I’ll tell you. He’s back in Romania right now, talking with our elders to try and make an exception to the code. For you.”

Wally blinks in confusion. “For me?”

“Do you want that? Would you do that? Renounce your humanity and join us here in eternal purgatory?” She laughs again, humorlessly. “Do you want to die and then stay alive in death for ever after?”

Wally smiles. “Well, it’s either that, or die and stay dead in death for ever after.”

Artemis quirks an eyebrow. “Precisely.” They stare at each other for another charged minute.

“Artemis, if you’ve laid a finger on that boy, then—”                          

“I haven’t touched him!” she calls back irritably in the direction of Zatanna’s voice. “My, I don’t know what Dick could possibly see in you. You reek of human.”

Wally grins carelessly and sits up. “Hey, and I even took a shower just this morning.”

She rolls her eyes and turned. “Farwell then. I hope for your sake I never see you again.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, babe.” But she is already gone; vanishing into the shadows like Dick is so fond of doing.

Must be a vampire thing.

 

* * *

 

Wally waits patiently night after night for Dick to come home. He mulls over Artemis’s words in his mind, replaying the ethereal encounter with the two other undead women over and over in his mind. But he heeds their warning and doesn’t return to the warehouses again. Who knows how many of them there actually are? Maybe not all of them know Dick, or ‘Nightwing’ as he appears to be called over there, and be so kind as to spare his life.

So Wally waits. And one night his window opens again and the cold shadow that enters his room slips under the covers with Wally, snuggling close to his warmth and pressing apologies into his skin. Wally holds him close.

“So… Did it work, Nightwing?” he asks after he’s breathed in Dick’s familiar scent again.

Dick stills, body freezing even more so than its usual harness. Wally smiles into his dark hair.

“What did you just call me?”

“Well, that’s what your name is in your part of town, isn’t it?”

“It’s an… alias. But—”

“I ran into a few of your friends,” Wally cuts him off. Dick sucks in a sharp breath, sitting up abruptly.

“Who? They didn’t hurt you?”

“Aw, are you worried about me?” Wally hedges, a smirk playing over his lips. Dick snarls, sitting down heavily on Wally’s chest with odd possessiveness.

“Did anyone touch you? Bite you?” He lets his fingers ghost over Wally’s neck where his inflicted scars rise on the surface of the skin.

“Don’t worry, dude, if they’d wanted to hurt me you would know by now, I’m sure. Please send my thanks to, uh… Zatanna, for saving my ass.” Dick visibly relaxes upon hearing the girl’s name.

“Zee is… a good friend.”

“And Artemis?”

Dick’s eyes fly open. “You ran into _Artemis_? And she didn’t leave you in a bloody heap?” Wally has to laugh hard at that.

“Like I said, send my thanks to Zatanna.”

Dick groans and collapses on top of him again. “You’re so stupid.”

“Why thank you.”

“Always putting your life in danger because of me, I don’t understand it. It’s your _life,_ Wally.” Wally doesn’t answer right away.

“Did you… um. Did you find what you were looking for… in Romania?”

Dick traces a pentagon on Wally’s chest before replying.

“… Yes.”

“Hm.”

Dick sighs and then sits up slowly. “I’ll come back tomorrow night. I have things to do.”

He grabs Dick’s arm before the boy can slip away. “Dick, you know what my answer would be.”

“What?”

“If you can do it… you know I’d say yes.”

Blue eyes measure him coldly. “I said I have things to do. Good night, Wally.”

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t come back the next night. Or the one after that, either. But the third night he slips in through the window that Wally has left open for him, and sits down quietly on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve had time to think—”

“So have I.”

“Wally, don’t you realize the consequences if you—”

“My answer’s still yes.” Wally sits up and hugs his pillow to his chest.

Dick stares at him uncomprehendingly. “But… _why?_ ”

“Because I love you,” Wally replies simply. “Because my life is boring as Hell and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Because I don’t fear death but I don’t want to die either. Because there’s so much I could do, so many things to see, so many discoveries to be made that I’ll never otherwise see happen. Because I want to see the _future_ happen. And I want to go through it all with you. Because I know you need me, as much as I need you. Dick, don’t you see? I’ve made my choice. I won’t regret it.”

Dick stares at him unblinkingly and then turns his head away. “You’re… you… God, Wally.”

“Yes?”

“I think I love you too.”

Wally lets out a tiny little laugh, holding out a hand to pull Dick closer. “I’m glad to hear that. Will you do it then?”

Dick ducks his head and places a hand over Wally’s heart, feeling it beat frantically in his chest as if it knows its time has come.

“You know what you’re doing?”

“Always. No regrets?”

“Never.”

Dick sinks his teeth into Wally’s neck one final time, and Wally welcomes the darkness that wells up in his mind with a smile.

 

* * *

 

“You’re so… cold.”

Wally chuckles, catching the glint in Dick’s eyes and the reference to their first meeting. “So are you, siren.”

His body thrums with energy. He feels so _alive_. Who knew being dead could feel so much more vibrant than being alive? The very colors of the world seem brighter, the smells more sensual, the sounds sharper. Dick smiles and leans forward, sealing bloodstained lips with Wally. They share their first real kiss, heedless of fangs and pain for neither can harm each other now. Dick clutches Wally closer to him, as if he will never let go.

Wally sure hopes he never will.

They have forever, after all.

 

* * *

 

This is Wally West. What’s his story? He fell in love with a blue-eyed siren, and wanted to see the world with him forever.

 


End file.
